


The Prince and the Sorcerer

by harlequin (julie)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic Revealed, Multi, Rape Fantasy, Sex Magic, Threesome - M/M/M, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-15
Updated: 2010-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-06 16:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/harlequin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur enjoys playing out sexual fancies in which Merlin pretends to be an evil sorcerer and Arthur pretends to be helplessly overpowered by him… Then one day Arthur discovers that there’s rather more truth to the game than he ever suspected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince and the Sorcerer

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** This is a very humble and _very_ belated offering to **ravenflight21** for her birthday. (In fact, it’s so late that I thought for a while I’d be offering to write two fics for her next birthday instead!) Thank you, my darling, for being such a good and patient friend. ♥
> 
> This is a sequel to a truly delightful fic titled [_Allakhazam!_](http://gold-macaw.livejournal.com/4671.html) by **gold_macaw**. Her fic is funny and charming, and still has the power to make me laugh in delight nearly a year after it was first posted. **gold_macaw** very kindly allowed me to write this sequel, though I know it can never live up to what she created. Thank you, hon, for all the joy you’ve brought me! ♥
> 
> **Warnings:** This fic includes the telling of tasteless jokes involving bestiality; the consensual playing out of rape fantasies; a threesome; and the hunting of boar and the killing of mystical beasts with about the same level of violence in the show.

♦

A wild boar had been playing havoc with the crops and livestock surrounding the village of Appledale, so Arthur had taken Sir Leon with him on a hunting trip, and Merlin had of course accompanied them. The late spring weather was kind, the company was congenial, and – despite having had little success in even tracking the boar that day – their mood was relaxed as the three of them sat around a campfire on the second evening. A warm breeze was sighing softly through the trees, the fire cracked and crackled, while every now and then the forest undergrowth rustled, perhaps innocently, perhaps not.

‘The boar’s not _here_ , is it?’ Merlin asked. ‘Here in this forest? I mean, it’s not gonna come _charging_ out at us any moment…?’

‘Were you not paying attention today?’ Arthur returned. ‘We couldn’t even find its trail, let alone the boar itself.’

Somewhere not so far away in the forest, a branch snapped. Merlin stared back over his shoulder for long moments, but all seemed quiet nearby, though maybe the night was already too dark for him to really make anything out. When he turned back, the other two were a little… edgy or something. Which didn’t bode well, given that they were big brave strong knights of Camelot. ‘Well, what _is_ out there?’

‘Oh, boars…’ said Leon. ‘Bears… Lynxes…’

Merlin swallowed. ‘Bears?’

‘Sure… I have heard tales of a bear in this forest.’ Leon had picked up a stick from the fire that was alight at one end but not at the other, and he used it to rearrange the branches so the flames burned brighter. He had a small smile on his face, and kept his head down, but he sounded serious enough.

Merlin glanced at Arthur, who was frowning at Leon. ‘Tell us, then,’ Arthur prompted.

‘Sure,’ Leon repeated. Done with the stick, he tossed it into the flames, and looked at each of them to make sure he had their attention. ‘We’re not all that far from Mercia, are we?’ he asked Arthur.

The prince pointed a gloved hand. ‘Almost twenty miles that way.’

‘Well, there was once a knight of Mercia. And he used to come here hunting. This was a while ago now, when relations between the two kingdoms were more cordial.’

Arthur harrumphed a bit, but didn’t retort.

‘One autumn, he tracked a particular bear all through these woods, and when he finally crept up on it in a glade, he saw that it was a magnificent creature: an enormous sleek healthy bear, with fur so dark it was almost black. And he thought the bearskin would make a marvellous cloak to keep him warm all winter long. So the knight slipped his hunting bow off his shoulders, and fitted an arrow to it, and took careful aim – and the arrow flew _thwock_ right into the bear’s flank.’

‘Hurrah!’ cried Merlin.

‘But that just aggravated the bear, who swatted the arrow away like you would swat a fly.’

‘So, what happened…?’

Leon nodded, acknowledging Merlin’s impatience. ‘The bear came lumbering over to the knight, who drew his sword with a mighty _shring_ of steel – and the bear swatted that away, too. The sword flew through the air and landed on the other side of the glade.’

Merlin heard himself gasp, but he didn’t care. He loved a good story. Arthur was looking rather more blasé, as if he’d heard such tales a hundred times before; nevertheless, he was paying close attention.

‘The bear growled as if to say, _How dare you?_ And then he dug his claws into the knight’s britches, and tore them apart – flipped the knight over, shoved himself between those pale buttocks, and buggered the man senseless.’

‘He did not!’ whispered Merlin. But then he glanced at Arthur’s cool amusement, and he finally got it. Merlin chuckled. ‘Leon! I thought this was for real.’

Leon winked at him; he wasn’t done yet. ‘When the knight woke up, there was no sign of the bear. Of course, the knight was absolutely _furious_. He retrieved his sword, walked back to his camp rather uncomfortably, and changed into his second–best britches. Then he spent the rest of the day preparing his crossbow, and whetting his best hunting knife.’

Arthur shifted, and lay back down on his bedroll with his hands cradled beneath his head, gazing thoughtfully up at the few stars they could glimpse through the foliage.

‘The next morning, the knight tracked down the bear again, and found it foraging in the very same glade. He crept up as close as he dared, and then fired the crossbow from only a few feet away. The arrow went deeper this time, into the bear’s huge shoulder, but still the bear just tore it out with a growl, and then batted the man’s knife away. Then he held the man up with a claw sunk into his chain mail while he ripped apart those britches as well, and buggered the knight where he stood, shoving up into him like there was no tomorrow.’

Merlin waited wide–eyed to hear what happened next.

‘When he woke up alone again, the knight was almost _exploding_ with rage. How dare this creature take such liberties with his person? He stalks back to his camp –’

‘They breed them tough in Mercia,’ Arthur lightly observed.

‘He changes into his raggedy old britches, which are all he has left. And he spends the whole day sharpening his sword and practicing with his mace, muttering to himself about how warm that bearskin cloak will be, how magnificent he’ll look in it, how delicious a few bear steaks will taste for dinner…

‘So the next morning, he heads back to the glade, and this time he doesn’t sneak up – he strides right on in there like the brave knight he is. His sword is in his hand, and righteousness shines from his brow. He yells his battle cry, _Mercia before all!_ – and the bear slowly turns around to consider him, and he sits back on his haunches, and taps a claw to his own jaw…’

Merlin was gaping now.

‘And the bear says… _You’re not here for the hunting, are you?’_

A moment passed.

And then Merlin guffawed happily, and Leon looked pleased to have amused him.

Arthur’s laugh chimed in a moment later, a moment too late, really, and there was something about it that sounded rather forced. He seemed distracted or perhaps just unfocussed – but when Merlin glanced over at him, Arthur snared his gaze, and stared back with a dark liquid heat in his eyes.

Leon began sorting out his own bedroll, and Merlin followed suit, musing to himself that no doubt once they’d returned to Camelot, Arthur would be wanting to play ‘the brave hunter and the wicked bear’ with him, which would be fine of course, though Merlin didn’t think he would ever tire of ‘the noble prince and the evil warlock’.

Merlin was dragging his boots off, the last task to perform before settling, when Leon headed off into the trees, presumably to relieve himself. As soon as Leon’s footfalls could no longer be heard, Arthur hissed from his bedroll, _‘Pssst!_ Evil sorcerer! Get over here.’

Merlin stared at the man. ‘What, _now_? Leon will be back any moment.’

‘Nonsense, he’s far too discreet for that.’

‘Arthur, I am _not_ having sex with you.’

‘Why not?’

‘He’ll be gone for, like, _two_ minutes. If that! What exactly are we supposed to get done?’

‘Ha!’ Arthur retorted in glee. ‘Your magical powers must be failing, evil warlock. Once upon a time you would have gotten me off already, instead of sitting there arguing about it.’

Merlin obstinately twisted his mouth for maybe a heartbeat, but then he gave in, as he always must. ‘All right, all right,’ he complained, before getting up, striding over there, and – Arthur lifting the blanket to welcome him in – lying down, close in against the man.

He lay on his side, on his shoulder, so that he had both hands free – and soon discovered that Arthur’s britches were already undone. He chuckled under his breath, and when Arthur cast him a somewhat embarrassed glance, Merlin whispered, ‘My powers are as strong as ever, puny princling, if all it takes is a thought and not a spell to make your britches fall open…’

‘You’ll never have me, you fiend!’ Arthur whispered back. He watched as Merlin lifted his hand to his mouth, and very deliberately wet two of his fingers. Arthur swallowed, and his eyes flickered in the direction Leon had gone. ‘Oh god,’ he muttered, ‘get _on_ with it, Merlin!’

‘Royal prat –’ Obviously a full–on assault was called for, and by now he knew exactly what Arthur could take. Merlin suddenly thrust his two moistened fingers up inside the man, even as he grasped Arthur’s hard cock firmly in his other hand – Arthur gasped, and his hips lifted, seeking, wanting – ‘you’re already squirming for more.’

‘No! No, I defy you!’

‘Shazam!’ Merlin murmured in Arthur’s ear as his hands set to work. ‘I just intensified your every feeling… my every touch… tenfold.’

Arthur moaned a little, and arched up further, thighs widening – lost to sensation, despite the fact that Leon would probably return before they’d finished.

Merlin frowned a little. _Despite_ or _because_ …? He pushed his face in close and intimate, and breathed, ‘You want your knights to find you like this, little pratling?’

‘They won’t,’ Arthur panted. ‘They won’t.’

‘They’re already coming to look for you, and they’ll see you like this, helpless in my power, and all… all _wanton_ in your pleasure.’

Arthur moaned, but then stuttered out, ‘A – a – concealing spell?’

‘No, young Pendragon, let them see you for what you really are…’

‘What – What –?’

_‘Mine,’_ Merlin whispered exultantly.

Arthur whimpered, and his body tensed, and Merlin was just about to speak the word that would release him –

When a twig snapped, and Sir Leon was standing there, only a few feet away, staring at them lying there wrapped up together under Arthur’s blanket. He looked rather startled.

Arthur groaned a protest, and tried to struggle away – but Merlin held him firm, considering.

‘Stop,’ said Arthur, weakly. ‘Stop this.’

But he was hard – harder, if possible – and he was _so_ tense, caught on that cliff edge, unable to fall, unable to retreat. And though Arthur’s hips moved as if wanting to disengage himself from Merlin’s hands, Arthur turned in to Merlin, hiding his face against Merlin’s throat.

The moment held and lengthened, and Leon’s intense expression softened into fondness, as if he might even be glad that two of his friends were –

Merlin made up his mind, and went with his earlier instinct. ‘Stay where you are, knight of Camelot!’ he cried in the ringing tones he used in play.

Leon’s eyebrows shot up.

Arthur groaned in massive frustration, epic annoyance. _‘Merlin!’_

‘D’you _want_ to be turned into a toad, Pendragon?’

Another groan, a little more resigned to his terrible fate now. Arthur had shifted back a little, but his eyes were closed, so he couldn’t see that Leon was quite visibly catching on.

‘Don’t move, knight,’ Merlin continued. ‘As you see, I have your prince in my power.’

Leon didn’t budge, though Merlin could see his sword hand instinctively flexing. ‘Then I must fight you,’ Leon declared in the same mock ringing tones.

Arthur made a sound that might have been laughter, might have been a sob, but he was suspended still upon that cliff edge.

Merlin dismissed Leon’s intentions. ‘I am the wickedest warlock in all Albion, and far too powerful for you.’

‘I cannot let you dishonour the prince!’

‘Then you shall dishonour him for me!’

Arthur grunted a serious protest then.

‘Not like _that_ ,’ Merlin whispered into his ear. His fingers were still deep within Arthur; he crooked them, wriggled them, until Arthur squirmed in surrender. Arthur’s breath panted, and Leon was looking on now with considerable interest. ‘Come over here, knight, and fall to your knees before your prince.’

Leon knew exactly what was required. He knelt on the forest floor by Arthur’s bedroll, and drew aside the blanket, gazing rapt at his prince’s rampant cock while Arthur moaned a little, shyly turning his pale face into Merlin’s throat again… But then Leon was tentatively licking at Arthur’s cockhead, taking it gently into his mouth, while Merlin slipped his hand lower to tug on Arthur’s balls – Leon began sucking in earnest – and after a few increasingly fraught moments Merlin had mercy, whispered _‘Allakhazam!’_ and Arthur was coming with a shout that must have reverberated throughout two kingdoms.

It was Leon who seemed shy afterwards, not moving away, but curling his hands around Arthur’s hips, pressing his face against his bared thighs, while Arthur was relaxed and heavy with satisfaction, lying there in Merlin’s embrace as if he’d never move again, already halfway to slumber… Merlin pressed up against him, a little bit hungry himself, but mostly just feeling stupidly affectionate…

But when Merlin finally carefully withdrew his hands, thinking that he must just let the prat sleep now, he discovered that Arthur was totally faking it.

‘Hah!’ Arthur cried, scrambling to his knees between them, and then twisting back around to face Merlin with his knife in his hand – though he pointed it towards Merlin in pretty much the most unthreatening way imaginable. ‘This evil sorcerer has defiled me! Knight of Camelot, I order you to take revenge upon him.’

Leon lifted his head from where he still crouched, and looked from Arthur to Merlin and back again.

‘Possess this evil fiend, like he tried to possess your prince!’

‘Merlin…?’ Leon murmured.

Merlin grinned cheekily, and sprawled back on the bedroll. ‘Oh no! You have rendered me powerless with your, uh… with your iron manacles!’

‘ _What_ iron manacles?’ Arthur grumbled.

‘I dunno. Just pretend!’

But Leon reached down into the neck of his tunic, and lifted a silver chain up and then off over his head. He caught Merlin’s nearest hand in his, and wound the chain around his wrist. ‘I have you now, warlock,’ he murmured intensely.

‘No… No…’ Merlin moaned. He’d never meant it less in his entire life.

‘I’ll pin him down for you, in case he tries to slither away like the cur he is,’ said Arthur. Pinning down, in this instance, apparently meant holding Merlin, cradling him in his arms, and lifting him so that Merlin was suspended between the two of them – his arms reaching up behind him to cling to Arthur’s shoulders, while Arthur muttered ridiculous insults in his ear, one hand slowly slowly creeping down Merlin’s chest and then his belly to at last tug on Merlin’s cock – while Leon knelt up tall, his hands holding Merlin’s hips up off the ground so that he could slam into Merlin’s arse again and again and again until Merlin was dizzy with it, dizzy with the pleasure, giddy with the way both Arthur and Leon stared at him stretched between them as if their gazes could eat him alive, faint with unappeased need…

‘Please,’ he whispered brokenly. ‘Please.’

‘How wicked have you been, sorcerer?’ Arthur asked.

‘Oh… Oh, _very_. Very wicked. Please.’

‘You shall get the comeuppance you deserve.’

‘Yes – Yes –’

‘Then suffer – _suffer_ , you… you _hideous_ creature…’

Even in the intensity of the moment, Merlin could tell that Arthur was hardly able to voice such a thing, and his heart warmed – while Arthur’s practiced hand renewed its grip on him, the thumb–pad settling on his cockhead – and Leon suddenly curled him up further, and hit that place within him that was as good as magic – and Merlin was coming, and crying out, _‘Beautiful!’_ – and Leon was shuddering, shaking, curling up himself now, his seed wet within Merlin – and Arthur was murmuring, ‘Yes, you beautiful creature… you wicked, _wicked_ man… you could suffer like that _forever_ , and it wouldn’t be long enough.’

And even better than that was afterwards, when they didn’t have to pretend any more about _anything_. Merlin lay there, sated and stupidly happy – and when he started to slip Leon’s chain off his wrist, Leon wrapped his hand around chain and wrist and all, saying, ‘Keep it.’

‘Thank you,’ he whispered, meaning for everything. Then Merlin settled for sleep on Arthur’s bedroll with him, on the side nearest the fire, and Leon shifted his bedroll to Arthur’s other side as if to protect them both from the forest and the bears and the lynxes – Leon stretched out tall beside them, and they all slept like babes.

♦

Of course such happiness was fated not to last long.

The next morning, Arthur and Leon were scratching their heads over some rather confusing tracks which seemed to circle about every which way, when there was a crashing in the undergrowth, and a grunting sort of squeal – and the two knights barely had time to exchange a glance and ready their spears before the wild boar ran out at them, trotting along _fast_ with all its own weight behind it – and for a strange moment Merlin caught the creature’s wild glare, and he could have _sworn_ that the boar was more panicked and fearful than even Merlin himself was – but then that moment was gone, and the boar had squealed again and landed heavily on the forest floor, skidding along in the dry leaves until it finally came to a halt with two spears puncturing its heart.

All was quiet for a moment. Arthur dusted off his gloved hands, and took a step towards their conquered prey. Leon was visibly sagging with relief, running his gaze over Arthur as if making sure the prince hadn’t taken an injury, and then as soon as he felt reassured on that point, Leon asked, ‘Merlin? Are you all right?’

He had just opened his mouth to reply when there was more crashing from within the forest – a great deal more crashing. Something – or maybe a few somethings – was heading towards them with a bulk and speed far beyond the boar’s. Indeed, it seemed the something that had panicked the wild boar was now approaching. And it didn’t sound as if they had any time in which to run or hide.

‘Merlin!’ cried Arthur. ‘Get back! Stay out of the way, for god’s sake!’

‘Arthur –’

The prince spared a moment to shoot him a glare, affectionate and frustrated and brave. ‘Just this once, do as you’re told!’

‘Yes, my lord,’ he replied, backing away maybe a pace or two, and putting all his own affection into his tone.

Arthur and Leon waited with swords drawn.

And then the thing arrived.

It had three heads, that was the problem. Three heads on long sinuous necks, so that while Leon engaged one head and Arthur fought another, the third was constantly winding around over them, harrying them, distracting them, snapping great long–toothed jaws at them. Merlin almost tore his hair out in frustration, trying to think of something he could do that would help the situation without giving himself away.

Except that then Leon was suddenly caught on the snout of one head, and flicked up, tossed away so that he fell back against a tree trunk, at least winded if not unconscious – which left Arthur alone to battle all three heads at once, and he was actually not doing too bad a job until a long tooth belonging to the middle head snagged in his chainmail, and the beast dragged him so far off balance that his sword swings were ineffectual. The other two heads poised above him, salivating greedily at the thought of devouring a golden–haired princeling…

The moment stretched. Arthur struggled. The heads each lifted a little, as if set to descend with killing speed. Leon was stirring, getting to his feet – but his sword had fallen off to one side, and though he madly scrambled for it there was no way he’d get there in time.

_‘No!’_ Merlin cried. **_‘No,’_** he commanded, holding out his right hand. ‘ _Him_ , you cannot have.’ A ripple of magic went through him, he could feel it – and the beast quivered – then Merlin cried out a stream of guttural words, he hardly knew what, and the beast drew back, rearing, screaming in pain and terror – and then falling dead, landing heavily on its back, though Arthur had to leap over the last lashing of a tail Merlin hadn’t even noticed before.

And all was quiet.

Merlin lowered his hand.

He looked at his companions. Leon first: Leon was shocked and pale. And then Merlin dared to look at Arthur.

Arthur was dumbfounded. He stared back at Merlin for a moment, and then lowered his head. Shook it as if trying to settle something into place. ‘Merlin –’ he started. Then, ‘Merlin, what –’ Except that it was obvious _what_. And apparently Arthur couldn’t bring himself to ask _why_ and _how_ and _where_ and _who_ and _when_ and **_what the_** …

‘Arthur –’

‘No. Don’t speak.’

Leon took a step closer. ‘Sire –’

‘No. If this man is a –’ he baulked at the word. ‘If he is, then –’

‘Arthur…’ Merlin whispered pleadingly.

Even as Leon reasoned, ‘He isn’t just some no–account warlock who means to do Camelot harm… Are you, Merlin?’ And even Leon seemed in need of reassurance.

And suddenly Arthur caught on. All those carefree games of ‘the prince and the sorcerer’. Hadn’t actually been games after all. He went deathly pale, but lifted his head and straightened his shoulders as if he knew now what he must do.

‘ _Please_ , sire,’ Leon said, distraught. ‘I’m as loyal to the king as the next man, sire, but you _can’t_ – not _Merlin_.’

‘There are no exceptions to the law,’ the prince said coldly. ‘Sorcery is punishable by death.’

‘Arthur –’ Merlin started.

‘Don’t speak to me.’

‘ _Exile_ , sire,’ Leon was insisting, ‘at worst. Let him leave now, or – or I’ll escort him to the border.’

Arthur was considering Merlin through narrowed gaze.

‘He just saved our lives!’ Leon exclaimed. ‘He only revealed his magic so that he could save our lives! And you want to reward him with death?’

Arthur said very directly, ‘Do you swear you’ll never use your… you’ll never harm Camelot, its king or its people? _Do you swear you never have?_ ’

‘No! The opposite – of course. I’ve only ever used it to help you, or try to. I’ve even helped your father,’ Merlin added forlornly.

‘You _can’t_ let him be killed.’

‘I won’t,’ said Arthur. ‘But there is an end to all trust between us.’

‘I’m not leaving you,’ Merlin insisted. ‘I’m not leaving Camelot.’

‘Then stay with Gaius, if you will. I’ll have nothing more to do with you.’

‘Arthur…’

But it was no use. The three of them rode home together, silent and miserable.

♦

Over the next few days, Merlin hardly saw the prince at all. Only at a distance, only in a crowd, in public spaces. ‘Been sacked again, have you?’ Gaius commented on the first day, as Merlin hung around working out his frustration with mortar and pestle. ‘I wanted those herbs muddled, not turned to dust.’

‘Sorry.’ He dropped the pestle into the mortar, dropped his rear to the bench, his head to his hands.

‘What did you do this time?’

‘You _really_ don’t want to know.’

Gaius seemed to assume it would be of temporary duration, as the other sackings had been, and offered only a very brusque kind of comfort.

Leon found reasons to visit Gaius’s rooms each day, and even though his excuses soon became more and more arbitrary, by the fourth day Gaius’s eyebrow barely even quivered at his appearance let alone rose. Once, when they were alone, Merlin asked the knight, ‘Did Arthur tell you to keep an eye on me?’

‘No. Not at all.’

‘Does he – Does he mention me?’

‘Not really.’ Of course not. ‘Merlin, you must understand how…’ Leon glanced back over his shoulder to be sure of Gaius’s absence, but still spoke low and quietly: ‘how galling it is to his pride, to feel how far you were humouring him.’

‘It wasn’t ever like that. We just – had fun together.’

‘I know.’

‘He’s never going to want to see me again, is he?’

‘Give him time, Merlin. He never would have – trusted you so far in the first place, if he didn’t rely on your friendship.’

‘How much time?’

‘I don’t know. It might be a while.’

It lasted a week.

♦

Leon appeared in Merlin’s little bedroom one evening, and nodded once before announcing, ‘He said he consents.’

Merlin sat there on the bed, looking up at the man mutely, hardly daring to believe.

‘He said,’ Leon patiently clarified, ‘ _Tell Merlin… I consent._ ’

Of course Merlin had already taken his meaning, but the more he thought about it the more serious and cautious he felt.

Leon nodded encouragingly.

‘And you?’ Merlin asked, thinking that perhaps Arthur would feel there was at least some limited safety in numbers.

‘No. Just you. It’s you and him, isn’t it? That’s what matters.’

‘It used to be.’

‘And now it is again.’

♦

Merlin waited for a few moments after Leon had left, and then walked slowly down the circling stairs, letting the knight get well ahead of him. By the time Merlin reached the courtyard, Leon could just be glimpsed disappearing into the guards’ room. Merlin turned away, and headed towards the royal apartments. Climbed to Arthur’s rooms. For perhaps the first time, he knocked once at the door before putting his head in.

Arthur was standing by the windows, but he wasn’t doing his usual thing of gazing out of them, no matter how unfocussed. He seemed restless, shifting uncertainly – until he saw Merlin, and he stilled, watching him a little wide–eyed.

Merlin came into the room, and closed the door behind him, leaned back against it. Arthur was wearing a tunic and britches, not his armour, but his sword was buckled around his hips, and he wore boots.

They stared at each other for long moments, Arthur edgy and a little pale, Merlin not sure what to say or how to begin – despite the fact that they both knew what he was there for, they both knew what they wanted to do. Didn’t they? Merlin swallowed, and then nervously ran his tongue–tip across his lower lip to moisten it. Arthur’s gaze followed this hungrily – and suddenly Merlin felt a surge of confidence.

He strode over there, he strode over to his prince, and slid a hand around his nape to cup his head – and Merlin leaned in to kiss him.

Arthur’s lips parted in a gasp, but otherwise he didn’t respond. His lips were full and generous, though, and Merlin happily mouthed at them for a while before lifting his head.

‘No…’ Arthur breathed, and he pressed his head back, just a little, against Merlin’s encompassing hand. ‘No…’

Yet Merlin looked at him, and saw in his eyes the message Arthur had already sent through Leon: _I consent_. ‘Yes,’ Merlin countered firmly.

Arthur stared at him mutely, apparently feeling too many conflicting emotions to be sure of anything.

Merlin whispered, ‘Fear me, young Pendragon. You have met your match at last.’

And a flicker of humour grounded Arthur once more. ‘You’ll never have me,’ he declared, voice low, but possessing something of his former defiant tones. ‘I would never give myself to one such as you.’

‘I have the power to take what I want, princeling.’

‘I defy you to even try, w–warlock.’

Merlin cupped Arthur’s face in both hands and kissed him again, demanding and hungry. Arthur’s lips moved under his as if in horror, but Merlin wasn’t fooled.

‘Unhand me,’ Arthur murmured once Merlin finally broke away – and Arthur’s palm and fingers wrapped around his sword hilt –

Merlin whispered a spell, and Arthur’s belt began sinuously rippling around his waist, the buckle flexing and then undoing –

Arthur gasped, and drew his sword before it was too late –

Another whisper, and the sword went flying, twisting around to finally impale itself in the middle of the table.

‘Hey!’ Arthur protested.

‘Um… It’ll be all right. I’m sure it’ll come out again.’

‘And _you’re_ sharpening it when it does.’

‘Two words from me, and it will sharpen itself.’

Arthur stared at him quizzically, and then took one of Merlin’s hands in both of his, rubbed his own callused finger–pads against Merlin’s softer skin. ‘Is that how you do your chores?’

‘Sometimes. Except when I’m… keeping you company.’ Merlin cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t capture you to indulge in bantering, young Pendragon. I have far more interesting things to be doing to you…’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah!’ And Merlin ran his hand up Arthur’s suddenly bared chest.

Arthur glanced down, startled, and then looked around to see where his tunic had gone – was about to voice a query or a complaint – when Merlin sent a glowing gold ribbon of magic rasping up across one of Arthur’s nipples and then down over the other. Arthur’s breath hitched, and his expression became wary.

Merlin took a step back, and lifted a hand, carefully not touching Arthur with anything but magic. Magic running over Arthur’s skin in sparkling bands, flicking caresses, stroking silkily, rippling. When Arthur’s eyes widened a little in growing interest, Merlin whispered another couple of words – and Arthur’s boots disappeared – but Merlin held Arthur suspended a sole’s width off the floor. Arthur’s gaze became complicated when he realised that. Merlin lifted his hand further, and Arthur lifted with it, until he hovered about three feet off the floor, still standing upright. ‘Merlin –’

‘You are in my power, my prince. You cannot fight it.’

Twisted strands of magic twirled around Arthur’s wrists, and gently insistently drew them out to each side, and then a thicker rope of gold started running down Arthur’s backbone, pressing harder as it went, until it reached the small of his back – and Arthur arched in reaction, in the anticipation of pleasure. Merlin’s magic glowed warm, and Arthur groaned.

‘You are _mine_ ,’ Merlin whispered exultantly – and he pushed slivers of gold down past the waistband of Arthur’s britches, let them roam exploring, let them push down further to caress the tops of Arthur’s thighs, until it was perfectly obvious that Arthur was hard and ready and willing. Then Merlin made Arthur’s britches disappear.

Arthur groaned a little in mingled need and embarrassment – and Merlin caught a glimpse of flushed cheekbones – but then Arthur let his head fall back so that he was suspended curved in the air.

And Merlin intensified everything then, slowly concentrating the sensations around Arthur’s cock, rasping wet across his balls – sent a fleshy tendril nudging between the top of his thighs, pushing in – Arthur parting his legs a little, with a moan – and then Merlin was pushing up into the man, for one heady moment feeling it, too, both like and unlike the hundred times they’d done this before – Arthur impaled on warmth and bulk, and magic rippling down his cock, rough at his nipples, tender at the small of his back.

Merlin stood there watching Arthur surrendering himself, listening to him moan – Arthur feeling nothing but pleasure now, Merlin feeling all the power of it, and he thought he could have made Arthur feel this way feel _this wonderful_ whether the prince consented or not – the warlock had the strength and the servant had the knowledge to bend Arthur to his will.

And if Arthur was Merlin’s – and in so many ways _he already was_ – then Camelot was Merlin’s, too, and one day all of Albion would be as well.

Merlin ran two more cords of magic up Arthur’s thighs, and down again – wrapped them around his calves and pushed up and out so that Arthur’s legs were bent wide, opening him up to Merlin’s gaze – his hard cock and his heavy sensitive balls and his hole a perfect darkened circle surrounding Merlin’s magic, accepting it deep within him, _desiring_ it. ‘Arthur –’ Merlin said, wanting to command him. **_‘Arthur –’_**

‘Merlin,’ Arthur responded roughly. Magic soft against his lips, soft and warm like dry kisses. Magic curling seductively dangerous around the strong vulnerable column of the prince’s throat, and Arthur letting it, _welcoming_ it… Arthur moaned again, all of him Merlin’s, _all_ of him for now and for ever.

But then Arthur lifted his head and gazed at Merlin – his blue eyes so open and candid and trusting that it took Merlin’s breath away. ‘Merlin – god! Are you feeling this, too?’ He groaned as magic lapped up against the back of his spread thighs. ‘Merlin!’

‘No,’ said Merlin. ‘I’m just making you feel it.’

‘Well – Well, come on!’ Arthur’s glance was impatient, or as much so as it could be. ‘It’s not like you not to be selfish.’

‘Oh god…’ How typical of Arthur to be such a prat even as he was so generous.

‘Come _on_ , for god’s sake…’ Arthur arched back further, pivoting on the thick silky rope that caressed his waist. Trusting Merlin, trusting the magic to hold him. And then a candid blue glance caught Merlin again. ‘Oh you great _idiot_ … it’s amazing!’

Merlin grinned, and a moment later he was naked, too, and as he stood there tendrils of the magic flowed back to him, caressed him warmly – and maybe he was imagining it, but they were crimson, not gold – the golden magic ravished Arthur, while the red echoed every sensation on Merlin’s body – or mirrored it, rather, as with every thrust within Arthur, Merlin felt as if he were the one thrusting – and they continued like that, like they had so very often, only this time they were far apart enough to watch, to see each other so clearly – Arthur lifted up again to gaze as hungrily at Merlin’s body and the effect he was having on it, as hungrily as Merlin was gazing at Arthur’s…

And this time they caught each other’s eye, and Arthur nodded, and they both whispered, ‘ _Allakhazam,_ ’ and the magic exploded around them, within them, in endless bursts of light and warmth. And Merlin wasn’t the warlock nor the servant, but the friend – and when he realised that he went to Arthur, who stepped down out of the air and into Merlin’s reaching arms.

♦

They were exhausted afterwards, and lay there close together in Arthur’s bed. Arthur soon began recovering his usual jubilant cockiness, though. It wasn’t long before he was suggesting that one day soon they might play ‘the hunter and the bear’.

Merlin turned away from the man’s shoulder, muttering, ‘Like I didn’t see _that_ coming.’

‘And… what if… this one time… there were _two_ hunters?’ Arthur glanced at him a bit nervously.

Merlin considered him. ‘Leon?’

Arthur nodded.

‘That’s all right,’ Merlin allowed. ‘Or – I know you – what if there was one hunter and two bears?’

A laugh greeted this. ‘You _do_ know me.’

‘It’s just as well I’m a _good_ warlock. An _evil_ one wouldn’t share his favourite plaything with a mere knight.’

‘A good warlock…’ Arthur mused, obviously trying to get his mind around that.

‘ _There’s_ a game for you… “the good warlock and the wicked prince”.’

Arthur shivered.

‘Hardly a day goes by, you don’t do something I need to punish you for…’

‘Impudence!’ Arthur cried. ‘You wouldn’t dare…’

Merlin just grinned. And when Arthur told him to blow out the candles, he snuffed them all without even moving.

They settled closer into their usual configuration for sleeping, and in the darkness, Arthur tentatively said, ‘There is _one_ part of me you won’t ever have to share.’ The prince’s tones somehow managed to sound both earnest and shifty at the same time.

Merlin grinned. ‘What, like… your arse?’

‘You cheeky –!’ Arthur huffed a bit, before continuing in severe tones, ‘I think we’ll be playing “the righteous prince and the uppity man servant” soon, if you’re not careful… I do believe stocks will be in order. I’ll have some brought up here… In fact, I’ll have some installed!’

‘Mmm… Sounds perfectly ghastly.’

‘Then that’s what I’ll do,’ Arthur concluded in great satisfaction – while Merlin snuggled in closer, and reflected that he didn’t think Arthur would ever have to share Merlin’s heart, either.

♦


End file.
